Larry Day Story From KY WIlderness #1
Posted: Wed Apr 20, 2005 8:51 pm
Here's a blast from the past. Larry has given me permission to repost some of these stories I saved from KY Wilderness. I have 9 pages total but think I'll just post the better FA stories. The first one is the FA of Foxfire. Enjoy! And thank again Larry.
"FOXFIRE FIRST ASCENT
Nov. 17th 1974.
I can't remember who's idea it was that day, but Hackworth, Baker and I returned to the Upper Red to try to find a route that topped out on the biggest crag we knew of in the area. I'd made one earlier foray on the cliff left of the big rock house but had turned back before reaching the top.
On this day we finally pieced it together. The route finding and climbing went well, and the last light of day found us starting up the "overhang pitch" headed for the top. We had been climbing under heavily overcast skies all day, and by the time the third man was on top it was absolutely, utterly, impossibly, deep inside a farging cave with your eyes shut, dark! I mean I can't recall ever having experienced such darkness in the outdoors. I remember holding my hand inches in front of my face and being completely unable to see it, or anything else for that matter. Apparently there was no moon, and any starlight was being completely blocked by the cloud cover. And of course we had no flashlight or matches.
It wasn't really late yet, and thanks to the clouds it wasn't very cold, but we were certainly in for a very long and miserable night unless we could find our way down. As soon as the ropes were coiled we struck off in the general direction of where we thought we should be going to find the downclimb over by the big rockhouse, the one that involves a fixed rope through a tunnel-like affair.
Staying close together we did the blind man staggers through the trees and underbrush, smacking into limbs and tree trunks along the way. It didn't take us long to figure out that we'd never find the downclimb like this, more likely we'd end up walking right off the edge.
After a quick conference we decided that we'd better turn around, go very carefully back the way we came, and rap the route. Well, we shuffled back through the woods and as we approached the edge of the precipice we could see that it was glowing! The lichen on the bare rock was phosphorescent, the one and only time I have witnessed foxfire. We did multiple blind rappels down the route and finally ended up on the ground with our ropes massively tangled, and had a bitch of a time pulling them down. This was followed by the long "hike" down river in absolute inky blackness. We staggered, stumbled, slithered and crawled for what seemed like an eternity and finally made it to the concrete bridge sometime after midnight. I had class in the morning, so I really needed to get home and get some sleep. Bob and Martin said they'd stay up with me while I drove, but conked out as soon as the old VW started rolling. I stood on the gas and went tearing through the gorge headed for Nada. At some point I was hallucinating so badly that I left the paved road at full speed where it made a sharp turn left, and we went flying down a potholed gravel road that continued straight ahead. Martin and Bob about jumped out of their skins and I was scared shitless, as it took me a moment to figure out what had happened. My partners swore they'd stay awake this time, but nodded out again immediately. The huge adreneline rush had me pretty well awake now, and off we headed for Lexington.
From here things went pretty well until just after the junction of the Mountain Parkway and the Interstate, where the '63 beetle broke a fan belt. Falling into that marathon frame of mind where you just keep putting one foot in front of the other I dug out my tools, a new fanbelt, and a carbide lantern that I kept in the car (no dead battery worries for me). Unexplicably I couldn't get the lantern to fire. By the lights of a passing semi I found that the carbide crystals had turned into useless dust. The night's theme was now perfectly clear. With the new fan belt and my tools at hand I settled down under the open engine compartment and waited for the next truck. With each passing semi I'd get in a few seconds of feverish work, then work by feel and memory when possible, then wait once again for the next truck for the trickier parts, such as adjusting fan belt tension by adding or subtracting shims between the split-v pulley halves. Finally the new belt was on, and once again we were headed for home. In Lexington I dropped off the guys, and headed for my parents house over on the south end. Finally I collapsed in bed just before first light.
I can't remember if I made it to class the next day, but I do remember that when I awoke, every muscle, joint and bone in my body ached from it's very core.
Glad you enjoyed the route, I sure did."
-Larry Day (from www.kywilderness.com)
"FOXFIRE FIRST ASCENT
Nov. 17th 1974.
I can't remember who's idea it was that day, but Hackworth, Baker and I returned to the Upper Red to try to find a route that topped out on the biggest crag we knew of in the area. I'd made one earlier foray on the cliff left of the big rock house but had turned back before reaching the top.
On this day we finally pieced it together. The route finding and climbing went well, and the last light of day found us starting up the "overhang pitch" headed for the top. We had been climbing under heavily overcast skies all day, and by the time the third man was on top it was absolutely, utterly, impossibly, deep inside a farging cave with your eyes shut, dark! I mean I can't recall ever having experienced such darkness in the outdoors. I remember holding my hand inches in front of my face and being completely unable to see it, or anything else for that matter. Apparently there was no moon, and any starlight was being completely blocked by the cloud cover. And of course we had no flashlight or matches.
It wasn't really late yet, and thanks to the clouds it wasn't very cold, but we were certainly in for a very long and miserable night unless we could find our way down. As soon as the ropes were coiled we struck off in the general direction of where we thought we should be going to find the downclimb over by the big rockhouse, the one that involves a fixed rope through a tunnel-like affair.
Staying close together we did the blind man staggers through the trees and underbrush, smacking into limbs and tree trunks along the way. It didn't take us long to figure out that we'd never find the downclimb like this, more likely we'd end up walking right off the edge.
After a quick conference we decided that we'd better turn around, go very carefully back the way we came, and rap the route. Well, we shuffled back through the woods and as we approached the edge of the precipice we could see that it was glowing! The lichen on the bare rock was phosphorescent, the one and only time I have witnessed foxfire. We did multiple blind rappels down the route and finally ended up on the ground with our ropes massively tangled, and had a bitch of a time pulling them down. This was followed by the long "hike" down river in absolute inky blackness. We staggered, stumbled, slithered and crawled for what seemed like an eternity and finally made it to the concrete bridge sometime after midnight. I had class in the morning, so I really needed to get home and get some sleep. Bob and Martin said they'd stay up with me while I drove, but conked out as soon as the old VW started rolling. I stood on the gas and went tearing through the gorge headed for Nada. At some point I was hallucinating so badly that I left the paved road at full speed where it made a sharp turn left, and we went flying down a potholed gravel road that continued straight ahead. Martin and Bob about jumped out of their skins and I was scared shitless, as it took me a moment to figure out what had happened. My partners swore they'd stay awake this time, but nodded out again immediately. The huge adreneline rush had me pretty well awake now, and off we headed for Lexington.
From here things went pretty well until just after the junction of the Mountain Parkway and the Interstate, where the '63 beetle broke a fan belt. Falling into that marathon frame of mind where you just keep putting one foot in front of the other I dug out my tools, a new fanbelt, and a carbide lantern that I kept in the car (no dead battery worries for me). Unexplicably I couldn't get the lantern to fire. By the lights of a passing semi I found that the carbide crystals had turned into useless dust. The night's theme was now perfectly clear. With the new fan belt and my tools at hand I settled down under the open engine compartment and waited for the next truck. With each passing semi I'd get in a few seconds of feverish work, then work by feel and memory when possible, then wait once again for the next truck for the trickier parts, such as adjusting fan belt tension by adding or subtracting shims between the split-v pulley halves. Finally the new belt was on, and once again we were headed for home. In Lexington I dropped off the guys, and headed for my parents house over on the south end. Finally I collapsed in bed just before first light.
I can't remember if I made it to class the next day, but I do remember that when I awoke, every muscle, joint and bone in my body ached from it's very core.
Glad you enjoyed the route, I sure did."
-Larry Day (from www.kywilderness.com)
